Hello. I’m Ryder. I’m 2 years and 10 months old. And I can dress aaall by myself. I know, I know, you’re wondering how I’ve pulled off this great feat. Well, patience, young grasshoppers. Caring is sharing and I’m about to show you how.
OK, when you start off this whole being a person thing, you’ll need help. Lots of it. The parental units will need to do everything for you. It’s annoying – nay infuriating – at times because the mommy person will put you into a few questionable outfits and there will be absolutely nothing you can do about it. Except crying. Crying works. Do lots of that.
Exhibit A. Animal ears. They make me angggrrry, very angggrrry.
|If I could successfully put up my middle finger, this would be for you, mum.|
Exhibit B. I was 10 days old and they put me into a huge 3-6 month christening outfit because they’d managed to get a last minute spot on the christening list and this was what was available at the time. Mummy says she was still a bit fragile from having birthed me a few days before. But I know this was just the beginning of their lifelong efforts to humiliate me through fashion. Oh, the shame.
Exhibit C. Don’t I look as if I’m incarcerated? And those metal bars don’t help.
“Hey, what are you in for?
“Disturbing the peace. You?”
“Pooping my pants.”
Either a prisoner or a mechanic. Either way, not cool.
A good way to exact revenge is to wreak havoc with mummy’s grooming products. Smearing her lipstick all over yourself or the furniture works really well.
But friends, as you inch past the 1 year mark, oh how you will finally begin to taste fashion freedom. It will start with the shoes. And at first there will be failure. But you must press on.
You will make mistakes, like putting your pants on your head. But don’t give up.
You will do the Mermaid Move on many an occasion, by shoving two limbs into one trouser leg and effectively rendering yourself unable to walk. Keep at it. It will get better.
You will identify your favourite pieces and will set about wearing them to death. Like wellies every day in the heat of summer, worn with or without other clothing.
But one day, ah friends, one day you will get it right. And it will be a sweet victory.
That’s when the fun really starts. You thought being able to walk and talk were as cool as it gets? Nah ah. Being able to dress yourself means: deciding for yourself what you are going to wear, even if it means shunning PJs for the rest of your life because you want to wear “normo clothes” (normal clothes) at bedtime. It means changing 47 times a day, pulling everything out of your wardrobe and leaving it in a pile on the floor for mum to nag you to pick it up. It means making and breaking the rules, like deciding that you want to wear underpants, but OVER your diaper. And it means never ever having to put up with what the mommy person says you need to wear if you really don’t agree with her.
Friends, welcome to the next stage of Big Boy-ness.
|PJs are for losers. This is how I roll at bedtime.|
Love Ryder xx